


The Story of Tonight

by Istealurfrenchfries



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Another Nightmare Fic, Equally Unoriginal Title, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, John is a Very Patient Boyfriend, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unoriginal Story Idea, alex overworks himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:39:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Istealurfrenchfries/pseuds/Istealurfrenchfries
Summary: “I’m sorry.”“It’s okay, Alex, you know that.”“I hate the ocean.”“I know, darling.”





	The Story of Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, here's another version of the same nightmare fic that you've read 578548787 times. But hey, I haven't written anything in a long while and it felt good just to write a short, quick something.

“You coming to bed?”

“In a minute.”

John sighed from the doorway.  He knew the effort to try to get Alexander to sleep was pointless, especially when Washington had assigned him a rebuttal that was due at the end of the week, but he still had to try.  He walked behind Alex’s desk chair and placed his hands at his shoulders.  Alex didn’t even twitch.  

“When was the last time you slept, love?” he asked, but only received a shrug in response.  That either meant that he was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t hear John, or he knew that telling him the truth would annoy him.  Alex had stayed up late for the past several nights in a row, but had at least made it to bed before John had to be up for his early anatomy classes.  He didn’t even want to know when the last time he ate was.  He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Alex’s head.  “Promise you won’t stay up all night?”

A pause.

“I promise.”  

The only sound was John’s feet as he padded out of the room, and then Alex’s furious typing continued.

* * *

 

_He couldn’t breathe.  He could somehow hear though, regardless of all the water that he was surrounded with.  He could hear screaming, the gut wrenching screams of anyone he’d ever known on his island._

_He heard his mother screaming, except that wasn’t right, was it?  His mother had died when he was twelve.  He should know, he was there.  She had coughed and spit and choked on her own vomit.  So had he, but he hadn’t been lucky enough to get to die and end it all there.  She had gotten sick and died right in front of him._

_He was outside.  Why was he outside in a hurricane? Didn’t everyone know that it was dangerous to be outside during storms?  He watched his home come crashing down all around him. The trees were sideways and the buildings were being ripped up into the air._

_Except then he wasn’t watching because water was in the air and in his lungs and oh_ **_God_ ** _he was dying. His mother was screaming for his help and he couldn’t save her because he was dying._

_“Alex.”_

_Wait, that wasn’t the voice of his mother.  It was deeper, male.  He knew it.  Why did he know it?  The water pushed his frail body to the ground, and this time he didn’t get up.  He couldn’t.  It wouldn’t matter anyway; everyone was dead.  Mama was dead, his brother was dead, his cousin was dead, the whole town was dead, he was going to die and-_

_“Alexander!”_

Alex jerked up violently at the sound of John shouting in his ear.  Well, it felt like he was shouting, but everything was loud anyway,  The wind was still howling in his ears and he couldn’t breathe.  His face was sore from the water.  He was so, so cold and it was so dark.  He was going to drown and never be found again, and he would never see John-

“Alex, baby, open your eyes,” the voice murmured. It was gentle now, and yet still somehow commanding all the same.  When did he close his eyes again?  With effort, Alexander forced his eyes open, and the sight of a very concerned John Laurens was crouched down on the floor in front of his chair.  But his vision was still hazy and shaking and he shook his head frantically.  

“Can’t..breathing, I can’t,” the words were choked out, jumbled and out of order, which only served to frustrate Alex even more.  He couldn’t breathe so he had to be drowning.  John couldn’t be here because he was dead.  John was just a hallucination because Alex was dying, dying, _dying._

“That’s because you’re holding your breath.  Come on, you’ve got to remember to breathe for me,” John tried again.  Alex shook his head again, squeezing his eyes shut in blind panic.  “Baby, no, come on.  Look at me.  Look at me, Alex-” Hands cupped his face and he finally met John’s gaze. “-and breathe.”  Finally, he dragged in a ragged breath, and then another.  His chest burned.

“Dying, John. I..” his words were incoherent. Alex could still smell the thick salty musk of the sea, could still hear the sounds of his people screaming.  A broken sob clawed its way up his throat, and he fell forward into the waiting arms of his boyfriend.

“You’re not going to die, I’ve got you. You’re not on Nevis anymore, sweetheart,” John tried to remind him.  He didn’t need to ask to know what dream Alexander had been having.  It was the same dream that had plagued his boyfriend nearly every time he slept alone, and for years before they’d ever met.  He stroked a hand down Alex’s back.  With his other hand, he gently loosened and tugged the hair tie from Alex’s hair, then stroked through his hair too.  “It’s over now.  We’re home, in New York.  You never have to go back there,” he whispered against his temple as Alex’s tears multiplied.  He felt him shaking; quaking, even.  Nothing would fix the damage that Alexander Hamilton’s childhood had inflicted on his mental health, but maybe John could help make it a little easier.  John felt the shoulder of his shirt grow wet, but he didn’t mind too much.  He just held Alex closer and spoke to him.  He whispered a jumbled mess of _you’re safe_  and _I’m here_ and _I love you so much._

Eventually, the shaking slowed down and the sobs quietened, but John did not let go. He felt Alex’s body relax and just rest against him for the moment.  John’s knees were aching from kneeling on the hardwood floor for so long, but he didn’t care.  

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Alex, you know that.”  

“I hate the ocean.”

“I know, darling.”

John heard the other man sigh harshly.

“I’m crying on the floor like a fucking child,” Alex muttered and made to rake a hand through his hair, but John stopped him.  

“No, you’re a man who lost everything as a child and thus has to deal with the memories.  There’s no shame in that, Alexander,” he said, keeping his voice soft but stern enough for the other man to actually listen to him.  “You’re also a man who overworks himself and refuses to come to bed,” he said pointedly.  It was only then that Alexander became aware of his surroundings.  He weakly lifted his head, revealing a blotchy face that was still wet with tears.  John couldn’t help but tuck the cuff of his shirt over his fingers and reach forward to sop up the tears.  

Alex glanced around and took in the room that served as a study for the both of them.  He glanced at his chair, then back to where they were sitting on the floor, him in John’s lap.  He remembered John asking him to come to bed.  A glance to the clock told him that it was two in the morning.  He’d obviously failed and had fallen asleep before ever making it to their room.  He always had nightmares when he slept alone.  That meant that his boyfriend was up in the middle of the night because of him.  His boyfriend who had to be up ridiculously early in the morning for an early class.  To his own horror and humiliation, more tears welled up in his eyes, and he pressed his face to John’s shoulder again.

“I’m _sorry_.”  

“Alex, baby, stop,” John murmured, “I already told you, it’s _okay_.  I’m not mad about it.”  Normally, Alex was never so torn up about inconveniencing someone.  He did it all the time in his classes and part time job at a law firm, often just to make a point.  However, he didn’t ever like wasting _John’s_ time, and especially not because of something so emotional and stupid as a nightmare.  He sighed and nodded.  

“Ready to go to bed, then?”  At Alex’s nod, John gently helped him to his feet, ignoring the way that his own knees ached in protest at sitting like that for so long.  His boyfriend’s steps were wobbly, probably from a mixture of the adrenaline of his nightmare and the fact that he refused to eat and sleep like a normal human being.  Still, John refrained from just carrying him like they both knew he was well capable of doing.  It would only serve to make Alexander feel even more inadequate.  As they started to walk out of the room, however, Alex caught a glance of his work on the desk.  The papers that his notes had been written on were ripped up and crumpled.  He must’ve done it in his sleep during his nightmare.  John followed his gaze and nudged him.  “I’ll help you rewrite them later, hm?”

It was obviously an attempt to keep Alex from deciding that he needed to stay up the rest of the night to redo all of his work, but it worked.  He probably wouldn’t ask for help and just do them himself later, but John’s reassurance convinced him to forget about the lost papers for now and just go to bed.  He nodded.

“I love you.”  John smiled at the mumbled words.

“I love you too.”

They would make it into bed and John would hold Alex and whisper sweet words to him until the exhaustion won out and they both fell asleep.  


End file.
